Follow-Up to Vacation Post Day Nine

So many of my friends have commented on my July 16-Day Nine Vacation post.

One thoughtful observation deserves this public response. I think there are some principles here which can be applied to lots of circumstances.

Here is the observation made by a chaplain friend; "It is interesting to note that they (emotional dumps) happen during times when you are released from the cauldron of the grieving ministry in which you are involved."

This is a principle which we learned after 9/11. Prior to 9/11 the mortuary was functioning like an ad hoc committee. When there was a mass casualty (9 or more) the reserves were called in, the incident was dealt with and everyone went home. We never saw the emotional afterbirth. Chaplains did not walk with their reservist parishioners through any reintegration process since everyone had gone home.

But after Dover's part in the 9/11 incident was complete we did not go home. We were kept on orders waiting for the other shoe to drop. In the days immediately following the end of the "push" chaplains were faced with a constant counseling load. We had been through the thick of "it" with the troops and now they had the time to open up, process and face life realities which had been put on hold during the crisis. Most of the counseling was standing up in a hall way. "Chaplain can I talk to you?" "Do you have a couple of minutes chaplain?" "Chaplain, let's go have a smoke." The invitation to "a smoke" is a code I developed with the troops and all of our chaplains have followed suit. Almost none of us smoke. So the code means, "I need to talk but I don't want to do it out here in the open."

The Wine Bottle is the illustrative symbol. Pressure builds up in the bottle but is kept safely contained by a well placed Cork. Then comes a day when the wine needs decanting. Intentionally, a corkscrew is procured, the cork is gently removed and the built up pressure released with a satisfying POP. On the other hand, if they bottle is subjected to undue stress, i.e. heat, I am told that the horizontally stored bottle can unintentionally blow it's cork or even break the bottle.

In the case of unusually high and constant stress environments corks come in many varieties. For us the corks consist of focus on mission, families, science, or in my case focus on my parishioners. As long as the cork stays in place all is well. But when the tempo wanes or the work comes to a stop the cork is going to come out. Intentionally or unintentionally the built up pressure will be released. Stress that goes in will come out. This accounts for the significant increase in "stand up counseling" and multiple smoke breaks. The chaplains become one of many intentional and safe pressure releasers.

As a side note, the counseling issues raised after 9/11 were not about the horror and sadness of what we had just been through. Mostly the conversations were about issues left behind when the reservist was called to duty: family, finances, extended family, children, jobs, health and many more.

It was not until weeks later when the pressure was really off that the afterbirth of war trauma became visible and even then the issues were not what were expected. Now they talked about the relative meaninglessness of their jobs at home compared to what they had just done. "I have never been so fulfilled. This job is so close to history and our unseen part in the grief process of our country’s families so real. I don't think I will ever do anything more important. It is going to be hard to go back home."

Another commonly raised reintegration issue was verbalized like this: "My wife/husband is so concerned with such small and insignificant things. I can hardly tolerate talking with him/her." I will never forget the night of my own close encounter with this insensitivity to the difference between my new normal and my former normal.

It happened during the third week of the 9/11 intense mortuary involvement. I was living in a motel room but spending precious little time there. On the motel bed and half asleep I was talking to Phyllis on the phone. She needed to tell me about our 15 year old cat who was sick again and she was afraid she was going to die. She did die a year later while I was in Dover yet again. But that night Phyllis went on and on and on about the sick cat. I wanted to say: "I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE CAT! THE CAT IS NOT IMPORTANT! WE ARE DEALING WITH 189 LOST SOULS AND YOU ARE WORRIED ABOUT A CAT!" Notice, "I wanted" to yell at her. Fortunately I realized that yelling at Phyllis or even wanting to yell at Phyllis was not normal for me. I had to steel myself to remember that what was not important to me NOW was important to her now and probably would be for me again. I had to (still have to from time to time) remind myself that though my changed perspective was a normal response to an abnormal event I still had to live in a real world and with people for whom my reality and theirs was different.

This juxtaposition of realities is at the heart of a necessary reintegration process for all those who have been exposed to the stresses of war.